Harvest Moon
by flutterback
Summary: When House is faced with his imminent mortality, hope is found from his family and friends in the most unlikely and unexpected way. This story evolved out of a Friday Night One Shot Challenge on the Fox Forums.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, and thank you for reading. I just wanted to point out a few things, first of all the patent disclaimer that I only own Shelly and Diedre. All other characters are creations of Davis Shore, .

I also went with a little poetic license in this story. (It is fan _fiction_ , after all!) The dates and relationships might not always be true to story, and the medical stuff was all adapted out of a hypothetical conversation my friend and I had over an article in a medical journal she found, so please, be nice. I have a degree in art, not medicine! ;-)

Hope you enjoy!

..:1

House peeled back his right undereyelid and looked again into the mirror. The slight yellow tinge was staring back at his reflection. _Scleral icterus._ Yellowing of the whites of his eyes. He gave a deep sigh and looked down as he braced his arms on the sink to support himself. He knew this day would come. Every time he popped a Vicodin, every time he poured himself a finger of scotch, that little voice in the back of his head warned him. Reminded him. The voice that spoke for his liver. (And sounded very much like his mother's voice if he was honest with himself.)

Looking back up into the mirror, his mind wrestled with itself. But there was really only one option left if he was going to try and extend his ride on this planet any further. Unhooking his cane from the doorframe, House limped into his bedroom to get dressed.

Robert Chase was reading a patient file as he skirted towards the elevators from the ER. Cameron had alerted him that he might have some impending surgery coming up from a recent car accident victim, and so he was engrossed in stats and triage shorthand when the nimble hook latched into his shirt pocket and dragged him into the direction of the now deserted clinic. It took a moment for Chase to orient himself as he stumbled sideways before he looked up and recognized his kidnapper.

"House. You know a simple greeting would be suffice to get my attention," he remarked, being careful to mask his annoyance in a tone of indifference. "Where did you plan on spiriting me away to, anyway? The clinic is still closed this early."

"Precisely," came the cryptic reply. House just turned and started pushing a small cart in front of him towards the semi-dark clinic area. It was then that Chase realized House was in possession of a phlebotomy cart, and dressed in an uncharacteristic pair of sweatpants and loose t-shirt. His interest piqued, he followed his ex-boss into the first room and shut the door behind them before flicking on the lights. When his eyes adjusted to the glare, what he saw before him made him drop his jaw in shock.

"House! Your - "

"I know, I know. Why the hell do you think I dragged you in here? So you'd regale me with the lurid details of your honeymoon?" House hopped up onto the table and grabbed the tourniquet out of one of the cart drawers to tie around his arm. "I need you to draw my bloodwork for me. I need two hands, so I can't do it myself, and I wasn't up for any pity parties or thirty dozen questions." His slightly jaundiced eye regarded Chase carefully.

"No problem. We were never here," Chase assured him as he moved to snap on a pair of gloves.

"Good," House replied. He quickly tied off his arm and relinquished the rest of the work to his protege.

"You want this under Luke N Laura?" Chase enquired as he filled another vial with the dark swell of blood. House grunted his confirmation and tried to ignore Chase's surreptitious glances at his eyes. "You know there is a great detox facility in Beverly Hills. Limited counseling sessions, they have a pain management specialist to set a course for your options afterwards, and the whole withdrawal process is done in a matter of days while you're under anaesthesia. The Waismann method. No pain, no cravings." House's trademark glare aimed in the Aussie's direction was magnified by the angry yellow tint of his eyes. After another moment of silence the snapping of Chase releasing the tourniquet ended the tense stalemate.

"Just this last one and we're done."

House took a cotton swab and held it to his arm as Chase removed the angel wing and disposed of it in the sharps container. The younger doctor busied himself with labeling the vials and cleaning up the empty packaging until he saw that House's arm was clotted sufficiently.

"I'll drop the samples off at the lab, but you need to return this cart to whatever station you stole it from," Chase admonished as they prepared to leave. They worked easily together, returning the clinic room to rights and slipping stealthily out into the lobby before the front desk nurse noticed where they came from. Their proximity was evoking a sense of familiarity in Chase, and the lab tray in his hand suddenly felt like the weight of the world was in it. In a way it was. Chase couldn't imagine the world of PPTH without House in it.

The two men parted with a glance and a nod, and Chase once again headed to the elevators where he waited for an available car. The numbness that was settling in was a complete contrast to the swirl of thoughts and emotions going through his head. He didn't even notice that another person had snuck into the car with him until the familiar voice broke into his thoughts.

"How in the world did Cameron ever get you to take up nursing duty?" Wilson's question was meant to be light, but the startled expression on the younger doctor's face caused him to pause. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Yeah. Fine. Everything is just...fine. Just taking some blood samples to lab before I set up for surgery." Chase hoped he sounded more confident to Wilson than he did to himself, but pretended to be intensely interested in the stainless surface of the handrail to avoid any further slip ups.

"You know I thought I was hallucinating this morning, coming in. I could have sworn I saw House pushing a phlebotomy cart down the hallway as I passed through the lobby. Could you imagine the poor victim having House trying to take his blood sample?" Wilson was laughing lightly to himself, and Chase forced a smile but could feel his face blanch. Wilson was looking at him intently again, and he swallowed hard.

"You know, you don't look that good. You want me to take the labs, so maybe you could get a coffee or somet-" Wilson's hand extended to take the tray.

"No!" Chase exclaimed with more force than was necessary, and his free hand shot protectively over the vials. But it was too late. One vial was sent off the rack and dropped softly on the floor of the elevator next to Wilson's foot before Chase could stop it.

"Luke N. Laura?" Wilson whispered incredulously to himself as he retrieved the vial. His face was a kaleidoscope of emotions and Chase felt his palms get sweaty. "But why would you...? That _was_ House I saw this morning then." The latter part wasn't a question. Before the younger doctor knew what was happening, the oncologist had grabbed up the vials, pouring over the markings to determine what labs were to be done.

"A full liver panel? And hep tests. Jesus Christ. He's done it, hasn't he? He's fried his liver." His tone was final but Chase could see the silent despair in Wilson's eyes begging him for a contradiction. The intensivist could only look away and return the vials to the tray. At that moment the elevator coasted to a stop and his escape appeared between the sliding doors, but as Chase stepped off, he looked back to see the crumpled shell of the man left behind in the elevator. House's one true friend.

In an instant, the numbness that had enveloped Chase minutes before was washed away by a seething anger. An anger he hadn't felt since his father was alive.

 _The selfish dick. Doesn't care what he's doing to anyone else. All he cares about are the pills. His precious damn pills! Not one ounce of thought for the people he's leaving behind!_

As the doors closed, Chase turned and strode angrily for the lab department, his mind filled with the injustice of how House's selfish dependency was going to crush the people who loved him the most.

And the small voice acknowledging that he was one of those people was just blatantly ignored.

 _-tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

Patent disclaimer - only Shelly and Diedre are mine.

..:2

Shelly knew the news was good by the way her daughter was bounding up to the house. Deidre burst through the back door and gleefully grabbed her mother up in a hug and began to waltz her around the kitchen island.

"So I take it you got your permit today?" Shelly finally managed after succumbing to her daughter's infectious laughter.

"Yes!" Deidre crowed happily, releasing her grip to slip off her backpack and rummage inside. She pulled out a small insignificant slip of pink paper with the large red "PASS" stamped across it. "98% on my driver theory test!"

Shelly took the paper and examined it more closely, and then passed it back to her daughter with a kiss to her cheek. "I knew you would do fine! Congratulations!"

"So do we need to go anywhere right now? Can I drive?"

Shelly laughed out loud at her daughter's exuberance and pretended to think for a moment.

"I can't really think of anywhere we really need to go," she mused in mock seriousness. "But I suppose we could always go rent a movie," she finally relented after the distraught look came over he daughter's face.

"YES! Thank you Mom! I'll never bug you about getting Netflix again, I promise!"

Shelly just laughed as she shooed Deidre out of the kitchen. "Go do some homework or Facebook or something until I get dinner prepped and then we can take the car to the park. I'm not unleashing you to the streets of the greater Hamilton area without a little prep work."

Shelly could hear her daughter's excited singsong of "Baby you can drive my ca-ar," as she pounded up the stairs to her room. Shaking her head she just returned to the counter and took up the chef's knife to continue slicing the peppers for the night's meal. But after a moment she found herself singing underneath her breath, "Beep beep, beep beep, yeah."

Shuffling her music sheets to the side of the coffee table, Shelly placed her steaming mug of hot chocolate and Chambord on the waiting coaster before picking up her guitar. She worked steadily for almost a half an hour before the thoughts of the day started to seep into her concentration. When she found herself picking out the notes to Drive My Car instead of learning the Jewish hymn before her, she gave up and retired the instrument to its case. Clutching the cooled mug of chocolate she sipped its sweet liquid and found herself drifting along with her thoughts as she stared out the window at the rising moon. It was almost full, only one more day until it's apex, and Shelly felt herself tremble a little with both anticipation and trepidation. Events in her life had always coincided with the full moon. Her first kiss, her first betrayal, the death of her mother. Even Deidre was born under a full moon. The harvest moon, to be exact. September 19th, 1993. It would be seventeen years ago in a few months, and between the milestone of the day, the time of the evening and the effects of the Chambord in her drink, Shelly could feel herself succumbing to the memories of her past.

At this time of night Shelly frequently thought of Diedre's father. How one could ever forget such a man, she wasn't sure, but Shelly knew from the very beginning that she wasn't the type of woman that would claim his attention for very long. At the time, though, still raw from her mother's death only a year earlier, Shelly just relished claiming his attention. And the fact that he made her feel alive. (Oh, so alive!) When he looked at her with those eyes...the shiver that ran up Shelly's spine was as unnerving now as it had been that first night he spoke to her.

Shelly had heard of Greg House long before she met him. Being at University of Michigan, there weren't many people connected with the medical school who _hadn't_ heard of him. Nonetheless, when he actually introduced himself to her over a cup of beer, she thought her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. He had that type of unnerving effect on her.

"Hey. You play guitar?" House had questioned after handing her a drink. Shelly thought that she could just slip into the kitchen and serve herself before going back in to lose herself along the wall somewhere, but his command of the beer tap had dashed her first hope, and his inquiry had her pinned to her spot.

"What makes you say that?" she had stammered foolishly, not quite able to meet his eyes. When he grabbed her left hand with his own, she finally looked up.

"Your fingers. The tips are tougher, just like mine. Fret fingers." He had smiled at her then and she could feel the alcohol jumping around in her stomach with her butterflies. Guys like Greg House didn't talk to Shelly. But here he was, doing his residency and talking to a lowly third year student who wasn't even sure she wanted to keep pursuing her degree in physical therapy. Of course, being at a mixer when they met, Shelly had just helped herself to some liquid courage to loosen her tongue and actually found herself quite a witty character. House must have thought so too, because she found his lean form draped outside her anatomy class the next week.

"Hey. Shelly, right? I just got off a 20-hour shift, but I'm meeting up with a few people for a quick cup of coffee. Any chance you want to come with me?"

Shelly still wasn't quite sure how it evolved from one quick cup of coffee to frequent days and nights together, but she remembered the music. Greg popped up as erratic as his schedule demanded, and constantly persuaded her to join him to go hang out with friends. Always with friends. They were never alone. She frequently found herself holed up in the cramped room of an old turn of the century house that some poor student called home, listening to the strumming of guitars, or the latest rock records, or just plain arguing about the top fives of all time. She loved when he would wander in at the dead of night, right before she closed up at the bar where she worked, and serenade her on the piano as she washed the glasses and wiped down the tables.

But his presence was as confusing as it was enjoyable, because for all the attention he paid her, Shelly never felt that the relationship was ever going to go the way she wished it would. At the end of every outing she just got a smile and a wave. But still, Shelly couldn't imagine surviving those dark days in Michigan without him. Her motivation for medicine was gone after seeing her mother waste away, and more and more the guitar was Shelly's refuge. It was Greg who finally convinced her that she needed to be happy, even if it meant quitting med school, and Michigan, and studying music instead. And so she did. She packed up mid semester and transferred to Pittsburgh to enroll in Duquesne University. She called him exactly twice after she transferred, once when she got there just to tell him her number, and the second time after she had gotten pumped up by a discussion in her music theory class.

"That's great, Shell," House had answered after she had been going on about the discussion for about 20 minutes. He sounded so distracted, and distant. The camaraderie they shared, the humor, was gone. She never called him again.

Shelly went on to get herself a Bachelors Degree in Music with a minor in Psychology. She found a job at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia doing music therapy sessions with the adolescent cancer patients, and immediately found herself loving the work. It was at CHOP that she met Randall, a pediatric cranio-facial surgeon, and fell in love. Eventually, Shelly found herself following him to NJ when he transferred to Princeton General. He proposed to her under a new moon - the sky inky black and wanting for it's pale mistress. Shelly should have taken it for a sign. By the next full moon, she finally saw Randall fully in the light. Arriving at the hospital to surprise him with dinner before he had to go into a surgery, she was given a surprise of her own to find him pounding away at a petite blond nurse who was splayed out on his desk.

As Shelly relieved the pain and anger of that period of her life, a stray breeze reached through the window and started scattering the pages of her music, snapping her out of her memories. When she finally tucked the collected music into her folder, the sound of her phone ringing startled her again.

 _Who would be calling at this hour?_ she thought to herself, mentally thinking of the few choice words she would have to exchange with whoever was calling for Deidre at 11pm on a weeknight. But nothing could have prepared her for who was on the other end of the receiver.

"Hello?" Shelly answered in a clipped tone. There was a short period of silence before the familiar voice began.

"Hi. Shelly? It's, uh, James. James Wilson. Look, I'm sorry for calling so late but there's something I think you need to know. It's about House."

Shelly swore she could feel the floor start to shake beneath her feet.

 _-tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer - they're not mine. Just Shelly and Diedre.

..:3

 _This can't be happening. It isn't true._

The mantra kept repeating in his head like a broken record, and nothing he did could silence it. In the far reaches of his conscience, James recognized a small twinge of guilt at being so useless today, but it wasn't enough to shake him out of his comatose state. Doing anything more than staring out the window lost in his own personal nightmare was too much. Death was his arch Nemesis, and as much as James excelled in diverting him in his professional life, he felt that somehow the Grim Reaper was exacting his revenge in his personal one. How ironic that he was the Head of Oncology, a job that does nothing but cheat, deter, and elude premature death, but alone as a friend, a brother, a boyfriend, he was helpless. He couldn't save the ones he loved from dying no matter how hard he tried.

This is how Cuddy found him. She was high on a wave of anger and disbelief that Wilson had missed the quarterly board meeting with no notice, and therefore she almost didn't stop to make eye contact before she launched into her lecture. But the sight before her made her stop short. She doubled back to re-check the name on the office door she had entered before realizing that no, this really was her department head staring out the window from his position on the floor. Wilson had abandoned his office chair to lean his back against the side of his couch, allowing him an unimpeded view of the trees and sky through the balcony door of his office. And at the same time able to look into House's office and conference room for signs of his arrival. Cuddy wasn't sure he was even aware she was there until she saw him extend a wrinkled piece of paper towards her.

"What is this?" she asked, taking the crinkled sheet and trying to smooth it against her legs before scanning its contents. "This blood test shows classic symptoms of beginning liver failure. Best chance the patient has is to get a liver transplant, but if I'm reading the level of narcotics in his system correctly, its most likely that the donor criteria won't allow him on the list." The bitter snort made her look up and then she realized what she was holding. The paper dropped from her hand like it burned her, and she sank into the couch next to where Wilson's head was propped. Both of them stared at the offending messenger as if it might come to life and mock them at any moment.

"Being House's closest friend, I'm not even going to ask you how you came across those lab results, but I just need to know when this happened. House has called in sick for the past three days, I can't imagine how you got him to come in for a blood sample..." Cuddy trailed off as her mind worked. House had called in sick Monday claiming he had a stomach bug. She wouldn't have believed him if she hadn't witnessed him swigging Immodium AD on Friday night while he was working late on his latest case. _Nausea, fatigue, loss of appetite, diarrhea_ , Lisa ticked off the early symptoms of liver failure in her head, and felt the cold grip of fear tighten around her heart. She looked at Wilson, his sad eyes mirroring her unvoiced thoughts.

"This morning, I ran into Chase in the elevator with a lab tray," James began softly in a detached voice. "He was acting strange, and, well, one of the vials dropped off so I picked it up. The patient's name was Luke N. Laura. House's pet name for running tests that he doesn't want showing up on patient files," Wilson added after seeing the confusion in Lisa's face. "It was for a full liver panel. Hep tests, everything. Chase didn't even have to say a word. When I had come in this morning I thought I saw someone who looked like House walking around with a phlebotomy cart. And I just put two and two together."

Wilson thought over the days events again in his head. Was it really just this morning? He felt as if he had waited days spying outside the lab as the techs prepared the samples and ran the tests. The minute he noticed one technician entering the results he had ran upstairs and hacked into the system, desperate to see the outcome himself. The one lone sheet he had printed out was balled in anger and then smoothed out repeatedly as he had tried to come to grips with the news, resulting in the wrinkled condition Cuddy had accepted it in. And now, sitting on the floor, the small thought of why she was there broke through his mind and he muttered a small oath. Cuddy smiled crookedly at his uncharacteristic slip.

"Finally remembered the board meeting, huh? I was so ready to ream you out the moment I walked in here. I couldn't imagine anything being so important..." but here she faltered, and stopped. Composing herself after a moment she stood and extended her hand to Wilson. "Come on, get up. It's 4 o'clock and I'm not even going to bother to ask you if you've eaten anything yet today. Let's go grab something and then we can figure out our options."

Wilson felt a light wave of relief wash over him at Cuddy's words (or maybe it was just dizziness). He was no longer alone with his burden. If anyone could still function under pressure it was Lisa, and he obediently slipped on his suit jacket and followed Cuddy out of his office. It was then that the small whisper of memory came at the back of his mind, and a face flashed before his eyes. _Shelly._ If anyone held the key to options for House it was her. Wilson just needed to get up the nerve to make the call.

 _-tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer - Still not mine.

.::4

The next morning, Shelly got Diedre up, cooked breakfast, sent her daughter off to school and then did something extremely out of character for her. She called out sick. Lydia, the head nurse and scheduler at the Visiting Nurse Association where she worked was very sympathetic - and a little curious - but Shelly just thanked her briskly for her concern, assured her she'd be fine to come in tomorrow, and promptly hung up. Steeling her nerves, she ran upstairs and rifled through her closet and drawers. _But what does one wear to such an occasion as this?_ Shelly thought to herself. _Maybe a suit of armor and a flak jacket?_

She finally decided on a pair of jeans and a nice button down blouse. Earrings, a touch of makeup, and she was out the door, following the directions James had dictated to her last night which she had written on a little post-it note. Pulling up to the address, Shelly killed the ignition and took a deep breath. The street was quiet and empty, most of its occupants having already left for work that day. Birds carried on gaily outside as the sunshine streamed down through the trees but Shelly could feel her heart start to race and her hands go clammy in her lap. James knocking on her window nearly startled her out of her skin, and she quickly unbuckled her belt and scrambled to join him outside of her car.

"Hey, Shelly. It's good to see you again," Wilson said as she accepted the small hug he offered her. Drawing away he continued, "look, I know this puts you in an awkward place, but I wouldn't have called you if I - " the oncologist's voice cracked and faltered, and Shelly quickly put a hand on his arm.

"No, James. It's alright. Don't worry about asking me. I just think that I...um...I think.." She paused and James looked intently at her face. "Just a moment, I think I'm going to be sick," Shelly managed out before darting to the back of her car. She made it to the curb and wretched up her breakfast into the sewer grate, standing up in time to see a concerned Wilson rushing over to her.

"Shelly! Are you alright? Can I -"

"I'm fine, James. Really," she interrupted, digging a tissue out of her purse to wipe her mouth. "It happens sometimes when I'm nervous. But only once," she amended at the look on his face. "Care for a mint?" she asked as she dug the Altoids out of her purse. He shook his refusal and Shelly closed the tin and returned it to her purse while biting down to banish the acid taste from her mouth. Dusting her hands off, she looked down the sidewalk to see a young couple coming towards them. Hand in hand, the two blondes looked grim and tired, the female still donned in pink hospital scrubs wrinkled from a night's work in the ER. Shelly could sense Wilson tense up again at the sight of them, remembering why they were here and the task ahead of them.

"Allison Cameron and Robert Chase, this is Shelly Jainchill," Wilson made the introductions. Shelly could see the open curiosity in both of their faces, but decided to ignore it.

"Is Cuddy meeting us?" inquired Chase towards Wilson, but the oncologist shook his head.

"She couldn't make it - "

"I'm here!" a female voice broke through Wilson's reply, followed by the fast clip of heels on the sidewalk. "I rescheduled my 9:45," she explained to the three doctors, then turned her attention to Shelly. "Hi, I'm Lisa Cuddy. House's boss. Wilson's told me so much about you."

Shelly accepted her hand but was starting to feel the pressure of all the eyes on her. Lisa especially was looking at her like Shelly possessed the holy grail, and she was starting to wonder just what Wilson had told everyone. As they turned towards the white building in front of them, Shelly offered up a silent prayer to whomever was listening that this all worked itself out okay and followed the doctors inside.

There was no answer and no sign of life in the apartment in response to Wilson's repeated knocking, and for that brief 5 minutes, Shelly thought that was it. She could just go home and go back to bed and will the world back to its rightful axis. But then a grumbling yell could be heard from within, and moments later the door was opened and a sallow face could be seen. Shelly had tried to prepare herself for the change in House's appearance. She visited sick people for a living, and usually could turn a blind eye to many forms of disfigurement and ravaging of appearance. But this version of her former friend had her heart lurch to her throat. Even when she had seen him after his infarction he hadn't looked as pathetic and wasted as he did now. He was gaunt and thin, with a slightly jaundiced tinge to his eyes, and a stoop to his posture as he folded over his swollen stomach. Shelly was grateful that he didn't see her right away and had a moment to compose herself.

Scanning the assembled co-workers House finally croaked out, "What the hell is this? An intervention? Nice job with the patient confidentiality," he threw bitterly in Chase's direction. "I _really_ appreciate it." He turned away, intending to shut the door, but in his weakened condition Wilson easily overpowered him and pushed his way inside. It was then that House noticed Shelly, and she saw a spark of curiosity pass through his cerulean depths before he pasted back on his sneer. "And what do we have here? Been trolling my love life to try and get me to repent for the sake of my loved ones?" he questioned Wilson. But Shelly could feel his eyes appraising her and the warmth of his stare gave her a much needed boost in confidence.

"Well, I would say its a pleasure to see you again too, but given your condition I'd be lying," Shelly tossed out as she slipped into the apartment and shut the door. Her witty reply seemed to throw House for a moment, and Shelly thought she saw the ghost of a smirk cross his face before he turned away towards the rest of his visitors.

"Nice to see that you've grasped the seriousness of this situation, House," Cameron began accusingly.

"I'm going to die. Big deal. We all are eventually," House pulled off the carefree attitude perfectly, but Shelly could see his fear in the way he gripped his cane for a second before starting to play with it. His eyes and his hands never lied to her. She moved into the room and settled onto his piano bench while House also moved to flop into his easy chair. The others settled on the couch, except for Wilson, who stood ready to break out pacing any moment. She was stroking her fingers silently over the keys of his piano before she became aware of all the eyes that were upon her. The only gaze she held was House's, until he finally broke the silence and addressed her.

"Learn anything good since the last time I saw you?" he asked quietly. Shelly gave him a small grin and started to drum out the faint chords of the death knell from Chopin's Funeral March. She could tell House enjoyed the joke, but looked over to find Cameron looking outright disgusted at her selection. Shelly dropped her hands from the piano and turned towards Wilson.

"Alright, James. I think its time to get this over with," she said soberly.

"Oooh, yes James! Please! Do tell!" House added with a mock enthusiasm. "I just can't wait for what type of torture you have in store for me now!"

Chase just glared at his former boss and before Wilson could begin he stated, "Detox first, obviously. We need to get you off the poison you're killing your liver with."

"Right, and I'll be all squeaky clean and reformed to expire repented and free from everlasting sin. That sounds like a great way to go," House grumbled bitterly. "Spare me the Catholic teachings and just let me die."

"No, House. Chase is right," Wilson said quietly. "We need to get you clean, and then you have a transplant. But you have to stay clean and look for other ways to get your pain management under control."

House looked at his friend incredulously. "Ho-ho. A liver transplant? Why don't you just fly to the moon, Jimmy-boy? That fantasy-land you're living in sounds really great to me." He shifted his gaze to Cuddy. "There is NO WAY you're bargaining a liver out of the Share Network without doing something to lose your license. I'm not doing it."

"We weren't thinking of doing a liver transplant. Not yet anyway," Lisa responded, sitting up straighter to meet his defiance. "There have been studies shown that patients injected with stem cell therapy treatments into the hepatic artery show a recovered liver function within two to three months. We just have to get you off the Vicodin and then - "

"And where are you suggesting we run away to for stem cell therapy? As far as I recall, you need to be enlisted in a clinical trial, and there ceases to be a study in liver recovery for drug addicts."

"You don't need to be in a trial if the stem cells come from a direct consenting source as a straight donation," Wilson piped up reluctantly.

"Right. My fairy godmother is going to grant me a perfect match that will be ready and willing to just give up some bone marrow for me. I'll bet you've all already been tested to help me too. So who is it? Who's the lucky dog that gets to give me the new leash on life?" House's gaze swept the group, but slowly he noticed both Lisa and James steal a glance in Shelly's direction. His lethal blue sights set on her, as he grinned bitterly. "It's not you Shell, we're not even the same blood type. I _know_ you can't give me a donation."

Meeting his gaze, Shelly steeled herself until she felt a numbing peace wash over her. "You're right, Greg. I can't. But you might be a match with your daughter."

 _-tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

Dun dun dun! But still not mine! :-)

.::5

There was a collective gasp as all heads in the room swiveled in Shelly's direction. She felt as if all the air was sucked out of the room. And then she saw House close his eyes for a moment before struggling to his feet. He made his way over to the piano and gestured with his cane down the hall. "I would just like a word with you for a moment. If you don't mind."

Still numb, but with her veins throbbing with adrenaline, Shelly followed House down the hallway and into his bedroom where he shut the door behind them. Her eyes glanced over the room in the dim light filtering through the blinds. The unmade bed, the sweating glass of water joining the Vicodin bottles on the nightstand, the journals and clothing scattered on the floor. But no pictures, no personal effects. Shelly thought it was a good representation of how empty his life was. Only his work and his pills for company. She avoided his eyes as he paced, and searched for something to fix her gaze on when he suddenly spun and gripped her upper arms with a strength that belied his sickly state.

"I'm sorry. Let me hear what you said again. Because to me it sounded like you just said I had a _daughter_."

Shelly didn't say anything for a moment, but just looked deep into his eyes. Anger - well, she expected that - fear, disgust, distrust, and was that...hope? She read all the emotions in a matter of seconds before she wet her lips and replied.

"Diedre Blythe Jainchill. Born September 19th, 1993. 6lbs 8oz, and 21 inches long. She got a 9, 9, on her Apgar. You would have been proud of her." Shelly's attempt at levity fell flat, but House released her to stumble backwards and sit on the bed. He looked as if he was struck dumb, but Shelly still tread carefully. Knowing full well that the lion inside could rise up at any moment. "Do you remember the in the fall, when we met again?"

By the look on his face she could tell he was remembering, going back in time and space to that fateful day they bumped back into each other. It was after she had finished picking up the pieces from Randall. New condo, new town, and looking for a new job. There was a bright young oncologist who was extremely interested in asking about her work from back in her CHOP days, and so she was loaded up with her guitar and a folder full of reviews and newspaper articles about music therapy when she was literally slammed into by some young kid running full speed towards the clinic of PPTH. Guitar case and papers flew everywhere, and after scrambling to retrieve everything before the autumn breeze took it away, she was face to face with Greg. He was holding the puny punk by his scruff and demanding he apologize to her, the boy so terrified she almost laughed instead of feeling angry with the kid. And after House released his prisoner they did laugh together, and exclaim over how long it had been and how great the other one looked. When she mentioned her appointment with James Wilson he had just cryptically raised the corners of his mouth and clapped her on the back. He was sure she'd knock him dead.

It was only after the interview that she understood his reaction. Young Doctor Wilson was fresh out of his second marriage and very impressed with Shelly, professional and otherwise. When House sought her out before she went back home, Shelly was sure to punch him in the arm for not warning her.

"You let me walk into the lion's den! Some friend you are!"

"I'm sorry Shell. He's usually such a gentleman, and entirely harmless," House had laughed as she threw her things into her car.

"Well, I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"He hired you?"

"Not yet. But he wanted to know if he could call me sometime, maybe take me to dinner."

"Not a chance," House had responded confidently.

"And what makes you so sure?"

"He wants to take you to our Harvest Fundraiser, but I'm going to ask you first."

"You are, huh?"

"Yes. Ms. Jainchill, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Harvest Fundraiser next Friday evening?" House had asked affecting a mock formal air and giving a slight bow.

Shelly couldn't help from laughing out loud and finally acquiesced with just a nod of her head, causing House to adopted an injured look. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Yes. I'd be delighted."

"Good, here. Here's my numbers," he hurriedly scribbled on her parking stub as his pager went off. "Give me a call tomorrow and we can do lunch if you're not busy. I want to hear about this Peter Piper gig you've got going. I gotta run, Shell."

And he was gone, loping back into the hospital with that long stride of his.

"We went to that fundraiser in October, together," House finally uttered from his spot on the bed, his memories finally catching up with hers. "You wore that dress with the panel in it," he gestured to his side for lack of a better description and Shelly bit back a smile.

The night of the Harvest Fundraiser she made damn sure House wouldn't be looking at her as just a "friend" and wore a red crushed velvet dress that had a see-through panel running from above her breasts down the length of her side to her hip. She had never danced with so many men in her life, but it had been worth it when Greg had finally announced he had enough and practically dragged her out of the venue and all the way home. The sex that night was everything Shelly dreamed it would be with him. And so they started dating, casually. Not consistent enough that Shelly thought he was being exclusive, but they appeared at every hospital function together. And Shelly never remembered a time in her life she enjoyed more. But she always knew it wouldn't last.

House was looking at her intently now, his brain working as the details slid into place. "So it was December, then. Or January. And then you went away."

New Years Eve was the last night they spent together. Shelly had to fly to the west coast for a training after that, and came home with a bug she just couldn't shake. She and Greg played phone tag for months but kept missing each other. It was April before she finally went to see a doctor, and by then he was confirming what Shelly already suspected. Her "bug" would be with her the rest of her life. Facing Greg was impossible. He had always said off-handedly that he never wanted to have kids. Compounded with the fact that when she finally got him on the phone he was on Cloud 9, going on and on about a lawyer he had met named Stacy. They made plans for dinner, and when House showed up with his new lady on his arm, that cinched it for Shelly. There was no way she could tell him then. He was so happy and in love.

"I called when I found out. We made plans to go out, to have dinner. I was going to tell you."

"But I showed up with Stacy."

"Yes, and I..."

"You what?" House spat bitterly, his anger finally starting to rise. "You chickened out? Decided to spare me? Let me experience true love? Did you _see_ what she did to me?" House struggled to stand up and push down his sweatpants to reveal the scar he bore as the result of loving so deeply, but either his legs wouldn't cooperate or he was moving too fast for his swollen abdomen to handle because it was he who fell towards the floor instead of his pants, and Shelly made a mad dash to grab him. Pushing him back towards the bed, she just acquiesced when he roughly shoved her helping hands from his arms. She stood mutely as he then threw his cane across the room and against the wall.  
 _He's allowed to be angry_ , she thought to herself, _but to hell with him blaming me for what Stacy did._

She could hear the movements and shuffling of the other crew in the living room at House's outburst.

"Feel better now?" Shelly asked calmly to the motionless reclined figure with his arm flung over his eyes. When he made no response she just settled next to him on the bed and continued. "Yes, I guess you're right. I chickened out. But I told myself it was for a noble reason. I believed it was so you could experience love. And you did with Stacy. At least for some time. What happened between you, with your leg, I'm not going to take the blame for what happened with that. If you had been with me, with _us_ , there isn't any guarantee you'd be in any better shape than you are now, Greg." She looked down to see that his arm had moved to his forehead, and his eyes were fixed somewhere around the crown molding on the ceiling. "Sometimes, _most_ times, loving someone means you get hurt. Its just that with most people, they don't get to bear the scars of their love like you do. On the outside."

Wilson chose that time to poke his head into the room. He looked a little relieved to see that both of them were still alive and not bleeding, but one steely glare from House and the door was shut and they were left alone again.

"Don't be such a fucking martyr, Shelly. You were scared shitless and thought you would get away with it. You pretty much HAVE gotten away with it. She's what now, 16? Does she even know I exist or did you paint me out to be a little wham-bam-thank you m'aam?" House struggled to sit up on his arms and face her and she could see his face darkening at his next realization. "So how long has James known about this? And were you two ever going to decide to tell me or did you not think I was man enough to ever find out?"

Shelly might have made a clean getaway, if it hadn't been for Wilson. She had been doing a special summer therapy group back at CHOP while heading into her 7th month of pregnancy. When the children dispersed after the last song and left the oncologist staring disbelievingly at her swollen midsection, Shelly thought she was going to have a panic attack. She shook the memory away and answered him with more calm than she felt.

"I decided early on that I was going to tell you whenever Diedre was ready. Knowing how you always felt about kids, I wanted to make sure she wouldn't be completely crushed if you rejected or rebuffed her. But yes, she does know who you are. I've even snuck her into a few of your lectures when she was younger, just so she could see you at work. James finding out was completely an accident, but he respected my wishes on when to tell you."

"Of course he did. _My_ friend should always hold the respects and wishes of other people over my own."

Shelly finally riled at the bitterness in his tone. "You should feel like the luckiest sonovabitch alive to have a friend like James, Greg, so get over it. Someone who has seen you make countless major mistakes and refuses to rub your nose in it, but instead tries to _help_ you by contacting the mother of your illegitimate daughter who you didn't even know existed." She paused to take a deep breath and settle herself before she continued in a more even tone. "Now, I know you have every right to be angry with me, but be angry with ME then, not everyone else. The way I see it, you can either take the fucking help and live for another 30 years, or you can sit there and stew at me for every reason in the world until it makes you feel better as you lie dying in bed. James knows how to reach me when you make up your mind."

Saying her piece, Shelly got up and left the bedroom. When she emerged into the living room full of expectant faces, she merely fished her key out of her pocket and then turned towards James. "He's thinking it over," she stated, and then turned and left the apartment for the safety of her car. Shelly made it three blocks before she had to pull over again so she could burst into tears.

 _-tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer - only Shelly and Diedre are my own.

.::6

The night was long for House. After Shelly left he had endured the pleading advice and smothering concern as long as he could before chasing everyone out of his apartment so he could think in peace. He reflexively longed for a drink to smooth the rough edges of his thoughts, but even in his wasted state the doctor in him recognized that he had abused his liver too much for too long, and he respected it's cry of 'uncle.'

Wilson, Chase, Cuddy; their advice and theories repeated through his head. Cameron got no points for just staring at him with tear filled doe eyes when she thought he wasn't looking and biting her lip until she actually drew some blood. What they didn't know was, much to Chase's credit, House had actually looked up the Waismann method yesterday afternoon and figured that if he was going to do a detox, sedated sure sounded like the way to go. It beat trying to get Cuddy to ship him to Germany for another ketamine trial.

Over and over again, House turned the stem cell donation over in his mind. He had attacked the online medical journals to download the article Cuddy had referenced and re-read it so many times he could probably quote whole pages from memory. But one sticking point kept his mind from focusing on the task at hand. As he thought about the stem cell option, his thoughts would always wander away to his daughter. Diedre.

 _I wonder what she's like. Does she look like me? Is she short like Shelly?_ His brain conjured up and discarded mental images of teenage girls with differing traits as he struggled to form an image of his child in his mind. _His child_. House had always insisted that he never wanted children, but at the unspoken phrase he felt something raw and shuddering release inside him, and a craving unlike any he'd ever known before bloomed up in his chest. Somewhere out there in the world was a living, breathing, part of him. And the knowledge that he could have possibly seen her and never even knew it made him desperate with want. To see, to hear, to touch. Shelly had mentioned she had brought Diedre to his lectures, and he racked his brain to remember one of them, any of them, where the venue could have concealed a small child. Or gawky tween.

In a rush of adrenaline House spurred himself up from the couch and went directly to the computer. Bringing up Google he typed in her name and was met with a barrage of useless results.

"There is no way Jainchill is that common of a name," he muttered to himself as he scanned the pages. Pausing he thought for a moment and then typed in the address to Facebook. Using the friend locator he quickly typed in "Diedre Jainchill" and then held his breath as he clicked send. As the tiny thumbnails loaded down the populated list he peered at the screen in the dim light to make out the images. Six smiling faces down, he froze. His eyes. That girl had his eyes. It had to be Diedre.

The girl with her head tilted and making a funny face for the camera looked like the print of his mother that John House had carried in his wallet during each deployment. It was a photo of Blythe at 16, and House felt himself go numb at uncanny resemblance his daughter had of her grandmother. As his body went numb from the shock, his mind mentally picked apart the image, comparing features. The lips and hair were Shelly's, and the shape of her face was a little softer around the jaw like her mother too. But the chin, ears, cheekbones...he was staring at his mother's features. And the eyes were his. Hungry for more he clicked on the name only to bring up the screen that prompted him to login or join to see more. Frustrated he logged in with Wilson's information, but was then denied access again. _Diedre only shares her information with friends. Add as a friend or send her a message._ House muttered an oath, but then smiled slightly. At least the kid was smart. No cruising pedophiles could get any pictures of his daughter off of her Facebook at least. The quick swell of pride that sprung up inside his chest was unexpected and a little unnerving. House immediately pushed down the feeling and felt his mood darken.

 _She isn't smart with any credit to you, moron. Shelly is the one who would be getting all the credit for keeping a tight rein on her._

Such a tight rein he didn't even know what his daughter looked like, save for a small grainy picture on a networking site. With a bitter hand House logged out of the Facebook and grabbed up his cell phone rapidly scrolling through the contacts until he found what he was looking for. As the line connected he struggled up from the desk chair and returned to the couch where he slumped into the cushions. Finally he heard the click as the line picked up.

"Doc. What can I do ya' for?" was Lucas' cheerful greeting.

"I need information. And pictures. Anything you can get. For a kid. The name is Deidre Jainchill."

"Doc, you know I can't get evidence on a minor. Who is this girl? Patient's illegal house slave or something?"

"No, she's my d-" House faltered, and felt the word stick like a lump in the back of his throat. He cleared it and tried again. "My daughter."

The other end buzzed with silence until House heard Lucas emit a low whistle.

"Daughter, huh? Who was the lucky lady? Wait, hold on, just give me some background info." House could hear Lucas moving around in the background, the shuffle of papers, the clicking of computer keys. "Okay, mother's name. Tell me everything you know."

"Shelly Jainchill. Birthday is April 9th, 1966. Mother's deceased. I think she lived in the Midwest somewhere. Went to Michigan State University before graduating from some music school in Pennsylvania..." House started to struggle for facts and was a little ashamed that he knew so little about Shelly. "Diedre was born on September 19th, 1993. In New Jersey." He could hear Lucas clicking away at the other end of the line as he waited.

"Shelly and Diedre Jainchill. She's practically been living in your backyard, House, they're in Hamilton." He quickly rattled off a number and an address and House scribbled it down. "Wow. She's a good looking girl, man. And a smart kid. Good grades, National Honor Society. And check this out, she runs track. Pretty fast, too. Ranked 27th at the Mercer Conference last spring."

House was hanging onto the phone and jotting notes. Greedily drinking it all in.

"Do you have pictures? Can you send me some? Where are you finding the information?"

There was a pause on the phone as Lucas seemed to debate for a moment. "All this stuff is just from the newspapers, man. Her high school published the honor roll list every quarter, and the other stuff is just free local info." There was another pause and House could sense that Lucas was debating again. "Can I ask you a question, Doc? I mean, you know I'm always straight up with you."

"Shoot," House responded without hesitating.

"Why are you calling me for this? If you ask me the person you should be dialing is the mother of your child. Or even your daughter. I mean you find out you're a father and don't even demand the basic contact information? Its obvious she hasn't been skulking in the night, shielding her identity from anyone's knowledge. Why don't you give her a call? She's listed right in the phonebook." House felt the anger rise in him but was also aware of something else bleeding in from the periphery. Fear and uncertainty. He was silent a moment trying to sort through his emotions. "If it helps any, Diedre's been waiting for you to find her," Lucas added, jolting House from his silence.

"She what? How could you know that?"

"She posted up on the Adoption and Orphans message board on a genealogy website. Three years ago in September. On her thirteenth birthday I guess. The subject line is just your name, 'Doctor Gregory House.'"

"What does it say?"

"How about I just send you the link and let you see for yourself?" Lucas replied, and more clicking and mail software's sent chime could be heard over the phone. "I really think you need to take my advice with this one and just call. I'll give you a 85% guarantee you won't be sorry."

"Only 85%?" House replied bitingly, trying to mask his emotion that was bottling up in his throat.

"Yeah, well. No guarantees on what your baby mama has to say, but I'm certain your daughter wants to know you."

Lucas' dry attempt at humor cracked a small smirk on House's face.

"Thanks, man."

"Sure, Doc. No charge for this one, okay? We'll just take it out of my retainer. Good Luck." And Lucas disconnected.

House threw down the phone and hobbled over to his computer to wake up the screen and open his email. Sure enough there was an email from Lucas. No subject and the content was just a link. Clicking on it he waited for the screen to load, the cheery advertisements for long lost ancestor search engines and genealogy DNA lab kits blinking happily while the content he wanted to read seemed to take forever to appear. And then finally it was there. 5 blissful lines.

 _Subject: Doctor Gregory House_

 _Location: USA New Jersey_

 _Posted September 19, 2006 at 1:14am EST_

 _Hi Daddy._

 _If you find this, I hope you'll understand. Mom tells me whenever I'm ready we can tell you, but I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to call. So I hope you find this someday and then come find me. I can't wait to know you._

 _~Diedre_

House felt the wetness on the back of his arm before he realized he was crying. Swiping at his face he read the message over and over. _I can't wait to know you._

House pivoted to look back at the couch. The scribbled notes he took down from Lucas were abandoned on its arm, and the phone sat unsuspectingly on the cushion. With one last look back at the online message board House again traveled the distance to his couch and picked up the scrap of paper containing his notes. 10 little digits. Flipping open his phone he punched in the numbers. Then he drew in a deep breath and pushed "Send."

After a moment the phone connected, and he could hear it start to ring.

 _-tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry this took so long to update. I had my files saved in Doc Manager in handfuls, and since it was taking so long, FF wiped them all out. So, I apologize for making you wait so long. Hope its worth it!

Disclaimer - If you recognize them, they're not mine

.::7

The clattering sound of the screen door smacking shut jolted Shelly awake.

"Mo-om?" she could hear Diedre call out into the darkness of the house.

"Living room," Shelly returned, reaching up to snap on the table lamp as she swung her feet down off of the couch. She quickly swiped at her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, but knew it was useless. If Shelly even looked only half as bad as she felt she would still scare her daughter. Sure enough, the teenager dumped her bag on the floor and hurried over to the couch.

"What happened? What's going on?"

"Calm down, Dee. Nothing's wrong with me," she saw the girl visibly relax a notch and felt the guilt rise up in her chest. All Diedre's life she always got scared whenever Shelly was sick. With good reason. If anything ever happened to her mother, Diedre's only other option would be a father that never even knew she existed. And now Shelly was offering her a defunct gift. She could finally know her father, but for how long depended on whether this crazy treatment actually took. The burden of sixteen years of guilty mistakes and good intentions felt doubly heavy tonight as Shelly drew her daughter into her arms. Offering up the eleventh prayer of the day she took a deep breath and tried to think about how to begin.

"I got a call last night from your father's friend," Shelly finally began.

"The nice one with the brown hair?" Diedre interrupted, and Shelly gave her a wan smile.

"Yes, Dr. Wilson. He called to tell me that Gre-your father, was having some problems and that now he was sick. Very sick." Shelly could see the outline of Diedre's lower lip quivering below her and gave her a quick squeeze. Diedre returned the pressure so Shelly just continued on. "So, this morning Dr. Wilson organized a little get together to figure out how to help your father, and I went along."

Here Shelly tugged Diedre up so she could look into her daughter's eyes, the clear blue depths dimmed and darkened by her anxious feelings. "I - I know I told you we'd only tell him when _you're_ ready, Dee, but at this point he needs to know. It's possible the only way for him to get better is with a transplant, and you might be his only option for something like that."

A fat tear spilled over onto Diedre's cheek and a strangled sob erupted from the back of her throat. She pushed the back of her hand against her mouth in an effort to keep the rest of her emotions contained, but the tears started rolling faster and she hastily swiped them away.

"S-s-so, he knows?" she struggled out. Shelly nodded. "Did he say anything? Does he want to see me?"

Shelly smoothed the sandy hair behind her daughter's ear. "He didn't really say anything. He was angry at first. At me, not you. He was angry that I kept you a secret from him for so long. And he was angry that I didn't think he could handle knowing he had a daughter." Shelly bit her lip and conceded Greg's point. If she hadn't been so scared, the best time to have revealed Diedre was after Stacy had left him. She had even gone to see Greg after the infarction with the sole purpose of coming clean, but the feral creature so tortured by pain and sadness frightened her, and she felt more determined than ever to protect her small daughter from knowing such fear from a man Diedre so desperately wanted to love her. From then on Shelly bided her time by taking Diedre to catch glimpses of her father. Lectures, conventions; it was easy to smuggle in a small charming girl with big blue eyes and ask maintenance men if there was a chance she could just show her daughter backstage, or the control booth for a school project. But faced with the realization that there may not be much time left for Greg made Shelly feel like a thief, robbing her daughter out of potential opportunities for connecting with her father.

"Is he dying?" Diedre's small question snapped Shelly back into the present and she tried to keep her voice steady as she answered.

"His liver is failing. He's had a drug dependency problem and one of the side effects is liver damage. It's finally caught up with him." She watched her daughter's eyes darken - so much like Greg's - and braced herself for the storm that was coming.

"So that's what I get? Years - 16 YEARS of waiting, and he has how much time left? Couple months? A year?" Her anger shot Diedre off the couch like a cannon and she began to pace back and forth in the small living room as she dragged her fingers through her hair. "Hi Dad! Nice to meet you. Do you think we could grab a cup of coffee or go see a movie before you drop dead?" she mimed in a mock-cheery falsetto.

Shelly pressed her lips together into a thin line and remained silent, and Diedre narrowed her eyes at the sight.

"But no, that's not even all, is it? He needs a transplant. His liver, right? I'm just supposed to go under the knife and cut my liver in half for him when I don't even know him? Why should I? Would he do the same thing for me?"

"We aren't talking about a liver transplant. Yet. James and the other doctors think that a stem cell transplant might be enough to correct the damage, and I still have your cord blood saved up. So at this point I don't know if you need to do anything more than get a blood test. Maximum is a bone marrow transplant if the cord blood cells don't work out." Shelly could see some of the fight going out of Diedre at her answer, and tried to settle herself with a deep breath.

"So what do we do now?"

Shelly shrugged he shoulders. "I'm not sure. I was thinking we would wait. When I left him, I said he had to make a decision and I haven't heard anything yet, so - "

"So I STILL have to wait for you two to get your act together? What about me? What about what I want?"

"Dee -"

"NO! Don't ' _Dee'_ me. I think I've waited long enough to know the guy. And now he's dying and you want to wait around a little more? Why don't we just sit on our hands until he kicks the bucket and then it will all be tidy and neat for you. You won't have to go through any pain or embarrassment of having your ex-lover meet his illegitimate daughter!"

"That's ENOUGH, Diedre," Shelly finally yelled as she rose from the couch. "You're allowed to be angry, but you're not allowed -"

The ring of the telephone startled both of them silent. Two pairs of eyes fixated on the object as it gave another innocent peal, and then Shelly started towards it. "I'll get it."

Picking up the receiver in shaky hands she tried to keep her voice even, and was relieved that she sounded more normal than she felt.

"Hello?"

"Shelly?"  
"Oh. Hi Greg." Shelly quickly looked in the direction of Diedre who was standing across the living room, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

"I want to speak to my daughter," was his crisp reply.

"Yes, certainly," she responded, and then slowly extended the receiver to her daughter. "It's for you, Dee."

Diedre slowly crossed the room and took one last searching look into her mother's eyes before grabbing up the receiver and putting it to her ear.

"Hello?" the young girl whispered into the phone. "Daddy?"

Two towns over in a small, dark, living room in Princeton, House's face smiled as the tears started to fall off his cheeks.

"Hi Diedre. I got your message," he managed to say before he was interrupted by the girl sobbing into the phone.

Back in Hamilton, Shelly watched her daughter cry tears of joy before retreating into the kitchen and closing the door on their little reunion. As she crossed over to the sink she looked out the window to see the moon shining down bright and lovely into the field beyond, and she smiled through her own tears. A full moon. She should have known.

 _-tbc_


	8. Chapter 8

Patent disclaimer - only Shelly and Diedre are mine

.::8

 _Two weeks later_

House checked his watch again and shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. Beside him his mother rested comfortably, the tiny airline pillow nestled between the window and the seat to prop her head up correctly. He scrutinized her face critically, his doctor's eye searching for signs of strain or exhaustion after the harrowing few weeks she had endured, but he was satisfied that he saw nothing amiss. He rested his large hand atop one of her slim capable ones and leaned back in his seat to try and relax for the remainder of his trip. Unfortunately, House found himself wound up tighter than a spring at the anticipation of what he would find when he got back to New Jersey.

The call to Diedre had gone better than he had ever imagined. (If he did, in fact, ever imagine reuniting with a long lost child.) His daughter was smart, bright, and a combination of her mother's wit and her father's sense of humor. He had been nervous before their first official meeting the next day, knowing what a let down it must have been for Diedre to see him for the first time in such a wasted state. Shelly had brought her to the little lunch cafe, but only stayed until Diedre had felt at ease, and so House thought that the date had gone successfully with both he and his daughter talking over an hour about a myriad of things without needing a chaperone to get them through and help the conversation along. When Shelly had shown up later to collect Diedre he had felt the coolness of his anger return at the memory of her betrayal, but was actually a little impressed that she managed to appraise the successfullness of the meeting, comfort and praise her daughter, and telegraph her thankfulness to House with only a few simple words. Diedre surprised him by flinging her arms around him before they parted, but no more than he surprised himself by returning it just as enthusiastically.

Glancing over at the slumbering form beside him, House thought about the call he had made to his mother with the news of Diedre and he sobered again. His mother's tears and speechlessness he had expected, but the contented and relieved sigh afterwards was one that puzzled him, and so he had questioned it.

"You knew about this?"

"Oh, Greg. Your friend James had mentioned his suspicions of something like this being the case years ago. You know its always been a dream of mine that you would someday have children. I just can't believe that it's actually true."

And so again, he bristled at the thought of anyone feeling the need of shielding him from the truths of his own life.

The days afterwards were a blur. Blood tests, scans, stress tests, psych consultations, pain management consultations, and phone call after phone call that accumulated to a subdued but more peaceful-looking Wilson showing up on his doorstep with an entrance packet and a small clasp of the hand.

"You're in, House."

Then House was on a plane to California, headed for the rapid detox facility, and hopefully on his way to sticking around until Diedre graduated high school. At least. What had surprised him was meeting his mother at the airport, and having her explain to him that he couldn't dissuade her, she was already booked in a room at the hotel next door to the hospital he would be staying in for the duration. And so she did. Although more than a little embarrassed at having his mother accompanying him in his most unglorified hour, feeling her cool hand on his brow or the wet cloth she pressed against his chapped lips while he hung suspended in the shadowy regions of consciousness during his detox was a comfort to him. And her quiet but rock-steady presence through the harrowing days afterwards kept him going when he would have quit if he was doing it alone. Besides the requisite counseling and physical therapy mandated by the program, House had undergone a first attempt try to save his liver with stem cells. Shelly had shipped Diedre's cord blood out to meet him in California, and so two days after awakening from one medically induced slumber, he was back under anesthesia again receiving another gift afforded by his daughter. All the while Blythe nursed and cared for her grown son, her calming presence working his magic not only on his own abrasive personality but on the staff as well. So bringing Blythe back with him to meet her only grandchild seemed like the least House could do for his mother, and Shelly had been all for it when he had called and explained the plan.

 _Shelly_. Just the thought of her name stirred up a ferret's den of emotion inside him. Anger, resentment, disbelief, longing. He still couldn't find it in his heart to completely forgive her for how she had hidden Diedre from him, even after the therapist at the Waismann clinic had pointed out that House really just used Shelly in a sense. House had been the one to dictate the terms of both of their relationships, both at Michigan and later in Princeton, during neither of which he was awarded any points for consistency or giving her a sense of security. The therapist wasn't surprised that Shelly kept their child under wraps all these years, finally finding the one point of their relationship where she could take control. Inwardly, House grudgingly conceded his point but resolved to keep Shelly at a distance as much as possible. There was just something about her that still haunted him at night, when _all_ of his body parts should be at rest.

House traced the outline of the pain patch covering his thigh when the plane shifted in the air. He glanced at his watch again, this time being interrupted by the voice on the loudspeaker announcing that they were about to begin their descent into Philadelphia International Airport. There was a general rousing of the other passengers at the news, and House squeezed his mother's hand to awaken her so that she could prepare for the landing. Blythe roused as her son texted the news of their approach to his daughter's cell phone, and after fixing her hair, fastening her seatbelt, and trying to banish both the wrinkles as well as the imaginary crumbs off of her blouse, House had to grab her hands again to keep her from fussing.

"Stop being so nervous. You're the only grandmother she'll ever know, so relax. She'll like you. If she can like an old dying man as her father, I think you've definitely got it made." Blythe's face hardened at her son's failed attempt at humor and she pulled out of his grasp.

"I don't find the dying bit very amusing, Gregory. I didn't just sit on my rear for two weeks in that God-awful hospital chair to let you slip away. You have your daughter to live for now, so I expect to see a concerted effort on your part."  
House hung his head a bit with the admonishment, and just gave her a small nod. Satisfied her 'boy' had gotten the message she brightened and took his hand again. "Now, tell me again what she looks like. Do you really think she takes after me?"

House looked at the unconcealed excitement on his mother's face and smiled before trying to re-describe Deidre as their plane glided down through the clouds.

Ten minutes later he was weaving through the throng of rushing travelers with his mother at his side as they made their way to the exit point. As they neared the opening, he spotted the tall head of his daughter as she scanned the crowd.

"Mom, look," he said, indicating the nervous teenager with a nod of his head. "Do you see her? That's your granddaughter."

Blythe gave a little gasp and clutched onto his arm for a moment.

"Oh, Greg. She's beautiful! And I can see it. The resemblance. Oh! I just can't believe you have a daughter! I have a _grand_ daughter!"

At that moment, Diedre spotted them, and threw her arm over her head as she waved, her whole body swaying with the motion. House picked up his pace to match Blythe's fast clip and soon they were stepping through the checkpoint, and Diedre was launching into his arms again.

"Hello sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. House squeezed her close for a moment to relish the feeling that came over him, and then turned her towards his mother. "Diedre, I want you to meet your grandmother, Blythe House." Young and old came together eagerly, and House turned away from the sight of all the happy tears to look for Shelly. He spotted her tucked out of the way of the pedestrian traffic, unobtrusively surveying the scene. As his eyes met the fear in her cool brown stare, he answered the silently telegraphed question with a shake of his head. Shelly didn't need to be told the results of the cord blood transplant, she could tell just by looking at him. House watched as the mother of his child hid her fear and slipped on a mask of polite excitement before coming over to join the group. This time, he let his admiration for Shelly's strength and resolve linger in his consciousness. They were going to need all the strength they could muster if the next few weeks were anything like he thought they would be. House was running out of time.

 _-tbc_


	9. Chapter 9

If you're still with me, thanks for sticking around!

Standard disclaimer still applies.

.::9

"Yes, but look at the counts. I don't think a transplant will have enough time to do any repairs before we're hitting liver failure. And chances are that if the immature stem cells didn't make a difference, the mature ones may not have much of a chance either," Robert Chase leaned back on the couch as the oncologist paced the small area of his office floor.

"But how many mistake factors were we looking at with the cord blood? Their age, handling, improper storage. We're not even assured they were in pristine condition when they were given to him, so I think we should give it another try. Bone marrow is less risky and has minimal complications associated with harvesting." Wilson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he regarded the younger intensivist's stare. "The numbers in the study Cuddy found are encouraging enough that I think we should still try this option first."

"I don't think we should chance it. Just transplant a piece of liver and be done with it before more time goes by and he needs a whole liver instead."

The small strangled noise from behind Wilson's desk caused both men to turn apologetically.

"Oh, Shelly. I'm so sorry. I forgot you were sitting there," Wilson said but Shelly stopped him with a raised hand.

"It's alright. I knew what the odds were if the cord blood approach didn't work out. It's just that hearing it makes it all a bit..." she paused and then rose from Wilson's desk chair. "I think I'll just take a little break and go down to the cafeteria. You can come and find me when you decide what we need to do." Shelly quickly slipped through the office door and Wilson slumped into one of the chairs usually reserved for his patients, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Jesus, I can't believe what I must be putting her through," he sighed out loud.

Chase leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he studied the older doctor for a moment. "You knew about House having a daughter the whole time?" he finally asked curiously.

Wilson sighed again and straightened up in the chair. "I didn't know it was _his_ , at first. I had heard about Shelly's music therapy work when I was just starting as an oncologist here. I invited her up for an interview to try and get something started in Princeton, and that's when she and House met back up again. It wasn't until after she had left him that I finally convinced the board to look into a program like hers, so I had gone back to Philadelphia to ask her about it. When I saw her, I must say I was surprised to see her pregnant, and to be honest, I did wonder if it was House's baby. But the look she gave me was confirmation enough. I think she thought I was the devil himself, she was so terrified to see me." Wilson smiled slightly, and Chase just shook his head. "I wasn't sure until after Diedre was 4, though. I had just kind've pushed it out of my mind for a little while, and then one day I saw Shelly with her at the family day picnic we do for the cancer patients. She had his eyes, and they looked at me with that same look he has, where he sizes you up before speaking. She did the exact same thing. Just gave me an assessing look and then decided to take my hand and lead me over to the games tables so I could play with her." Wilson shook off the memory and sobered again.

"I just don't get it. He had said that they were friends. How can you say she's a friend when you just push her away, and not even know she's carrying your own baby?"

"Well, we're talking the difference between pre and post infarction House. You would probably understand more if you had seen them together. The way he treated her. She would have followed him to the ends of the earth if he had asked, but he never saw her like that. Even now I think there's a little flame left for him in there, somewhere," Wilson stopped when he saw a flicker of some unnamed emotion flash over Chase's face. Of course Chase would probably understand. Marrying a woman who was once in love with the same man probably gave him some insight. Tabling the conversation, Wilson tried to get back to making their decision.

"So, about Diedre. I really think it would be easier to just go with the bone marrow harvest for now."

"Well. It's one operation or two. I think one operation, take a piece of the liver, and she's done. A lot less stress on the body than doing it twice. Longer recovery, possibly, but if you add up the recovery for the two operations combined...I just think it wouldn't pay off to fool around when we already know what we need here."

There was a moment of silence as Wilson digested his words. "I guess we also should just run this by the man himself. To see what he has to say."

Chase nodded in agreement and the two rose to go discuss the decision with House.

An hour later, Wilson was wandering the halls of the hospital looking for Shelly as twilight darkened the hospital windows to a deep navy. He carried a cooling cup of hot chocolate as a peace offering while he struggled vainly to find the petite figure with the head of dark hair. Doubling back he decided to just retreat to his office and call her when he spotted movement in the shadowy interior of House's office. Pushing through the door he admired her trim figure silhouetted against the window that looked outside over the balcony, but he brushed the thought aside as he took in her closed posture and how she had her arms wrapped around herself.

 _She's scared. And all alone. Scared for Diedre. And for House too, probably. Lucky bastard never even appreciated what he had with her._

"Hey, Shell," he said softly as he approached so that he could avoid startling her. When she turned Wilson's heart gave another squeeze at the sight of her moist eyes and damp cheeks.

"Oh, James. Thanks," she said as she accepted the cup and took a sip. Then she smiled at him more fully. "You never forget anything, huh?" she asked, referring to the fact that he remembered she preferred hot chocolate to tea or coffee. The oncologist gave a sheepish smile and she laughed. "It's no wonder to me why you married so many times. A girl could get used to this." She swiped at her cheeks a little with the back of her hand as she put the cup on the edge of House's desk. Her fingers lingered and touched a few of the diagnostician's objects, and instinctively Wilson just waited to let her build up her courage.

"Where's Diedre?" he finally asked.

"I sent her home with Blythe. It's been a long day for them and I figured I could let her get in some permit practice without her dreaded mother commenting on her driving." Shelly made a face and then finally, she looked up and Wilson could read the resignation in her eyes. "So?" she asked softly. "What's the verdict?"

"We told House that his best shot is to just go for the partial liver transplant, but he refuses to make a decision without Diedre's consent."

Shelly gave an inelegant snort at the answer. "As if she'd refuse him. She only got her father three weeks ago. That isn't enough time for the novelty to wear off so she'll throw him back." Shrugging slightly she looked down at the desk again. Wilson could sense she was wrestling with something, and so he reached out and touched her other arm with his hand.

"Look, if you're worried about Diedre, the risks of the surgery are minimal. You said she already had anesthesia once, so we're not concerned with her having a reaction to that. And she's young, still growing. She should be fully healed in about 2 years. Just in time to start using it in college."

Shelly offered a wry smile at his little joke and then pressed her lips together. "It's not that I'm worried about what will happen with Diedre. I mean, I _am_ worried, but its not just about the surgery." Shelly puffed up her cheeks and then blew out the air in a steady stream. Finally she straightened and looked Wilson in the eye. "How do you do it, James? How are you around a man who just takes and takes without him sucking you in?" Wilson released her arm to rub the back of his neck and Shelly continued with more energy. "That's what I'm afraid of. He's going to take Dee away from me. Not by the surgery going wrong and me losing her, but by the surgery being a success, and by him living another day. Another week. Another year! He's going to heal and get better, and get to know our- **MY** daughter better everyday. And I'm going to lose her. You know how he is when he holds a grudge, and I messed up. I admit it. He's a charmer, and smooth talking, and he always gets what he wants. I should know, of all people! And right now he wants Diedre. I can see it in his eyes." Shelly bitterly grabbed for the hot chocolate and took a long drink, then tossed the remains in the trash bin under House's desk. Turning back to the window she stood with her face turned up the the sky and the dusk created little shadows under her eyes and on her throat, mirroring the marks of sadness Wilson had seen when he came in. "But what hurts the most is that I think I still love him," she continued softly. "After all this time, and no matter how much I think I just want him to drop dead...the thought of him being gone - permanently-" Shelly covered her mouth with her hand and Wilson touched her back between her shoulder blades as she pulled herself together. Moving behind her Wilson stared out and up over her shoulder and kept one eye on her reflection in the glass as he began.

"Almost two years ago, my girlfriend died." He saw Shelly start and try to tell him she was sorry but he stopped her. "No, no, you didn't know. It's alright. Her name was Amber. I met her when she was working as one of House's interns, and even afterwards we kept it a secret. The whole time I had this idea in my head about how he was going to react when he found out about us. How mad he was going to be. But the thing that made him react was just the fact that I was keeping her identity a secret. After he figured it out, and really was sure this was good for me, he was very cool with the whole thing. I mean, not without the occasional ribbing about our relationship, this is House we're talking about, after all." Shelly's reflection gave a little smile of understanding and Wilson continued. "But then they were in an accident together, the bus they were on got hit by a truck." For a moment, Wilson thought he could see Amber's face in the glass before him, but then he mentally shook himself tried to find the right words to help Shelly. "It took me a long time to forgive him for living when she didn't survive. To move on. And believe me, at the time I thought that the miserable bastard should have traded his life for hers. But the thing is, he did. He tried. He tried everything he could to find her, save her. To give me something back besides a cranky, addicted, misanthropic jerk I had to keep worrying over like the child I never had. Deep down inside, he really does care about people." The pair stood separated by their own spheres of thought as the shadows grew longer inside the office.

Finally, Wilson spoke again. "Shell, to tell you the truth, I don't know if House is going to take Diedre away from you as much as your child is going to bring you two back together."

Shelly tipped her head forward to rest on the glass and Wilson could see her shoulders slump. "That's what I was afraid of," she answered softly.

Touching her back, Wilson motioned for her to follow him. "C'mon. I'm the one who dragged you into this mess, the least I can do is drive you home. Maybe we can stop for dinner on the way if you want to give Diedre more alone time with her grandmother." Shelly gave him a sad smile as she took his proffered arm and let him lead her away from the darkness.

 _-tbc_


	10. Chapter 10

If you're still out there, thanks for reading!

I do not own any recognizable characters

.::10

Shelly watched his features as he laid with his eyes closed in the hospital bed. From this angle she could almost imagine that the years had been kinder to him, as he looked so relaxed and reposed laying back in the bed. Then the thought slipped into her mind that he would also probably look similar lying in a coffin, and Shelly shuddered. She couldn't let that happen.

Laying in bed back at home, she had gone over the pros and cons of her daughter possibly giving up a part of her liver versus just a bone marrow transplant instead of trying to sleep. Diedre herself had slipped into Shelly's bed hours before to tell her mother she had made up her mind to give her father anything he needed, even after Shelly had tried to dissuade her with all the possible side effects and scenarios. The peace and resolve Shelly saw in the 16 year old's eyes was something she coveted for herself, as her mind seemed to be a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The scared part of her was pleading to pull rank and just forbid her daughter to go under the knife. Legally she had that power. But the logical side of Shelly knew that overruling her daughter's wishes, well, this wish in particular, would sever and destroy all kinds of bonds they had together. The realization was that, not for the first time, she would just have to put faith and trust in her daughter's decision. Diedre was growing up, and Shelly had to respect the stubborn determination of her daughter's choice, even if she wasn't 100% comfortable with it.

And so, with the decision made, the only thing left to think about was House. As much as Shelly feared that he would hurt Diedre somewhere along the road, deep down she knew it would hurt her daughter far more if they lost him now. There was only one thing Shelly could think of to make their future journey together more peaceful, and so here she was, hovering outside of House's hospital room in the middle of the night. She knew she had to summon up the nerve sometime, so it might as well be now. Drawing in a deep breath she slid open the glass door and softly entered. The dialysis machine was no longer hooked up, but it still sat off to the side. It's hulking presence a lingering reminder of what they were here for. Shelly softly touched the fabric of his sheets, and then his sweatpants, before finally touching the back of his hand with her own to wake him. When House opened his eyes she thought he must have still been dreaming a little, because it almost looked like he didn't recognize who she was for a moment.

"Shelly," he finally said, his voice thick with sleep. Struggling to sit up he accepted her help as she rearranged the pillows so he had a foundation to lean back on. Scrubbing his hands over his head he looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Around 2 am. I was hoping that you would still be on California time, and that it wouldn't seem so late for you."

He gave her a small grin as he stretched out his leg. "You'd think that sleeping for a week straight I wouldn't be tired anymore, right?" He winced a little from the stretching and reached down to massage his leg. "I need my bag," he said, indicating his backpack that occupied the lone chair in the room. She retrieved and unzippered it for him, and he wasted no time delving inside for a sealed medical packet.

"Your new meds?" Shelly inquired as he set up a makeshift station on the tray table. He nodded as alcohol wipes, baby oil gel, and cotton balls were arranged next to the pain patch. But when House hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats he paused and looked at Shelly.

"You want to stay or go?" he asked.

"I'm here if you need a hand," she replied, and crossed the room to draw the shades. He already had hiked his pants down and was just sitting in his boxers by the time she turned back, and Shelly watched, a little fascinated, with how thorough and methodic he was with the process. He massaged baby oil around the edges of the old patch to release the adhesive, then cleaned the whole area of and around the shaved scar with the rubbing alcohol before applying the new patch, which he then covered with his hands to warm up and activate. Shelly helped by clearing away the garbage when he was finished and assisting him with getting his pants back up around his swollen stomach.

"It looks better than when I last saw it, " she finally commented indicating his leg. Too late, Shelly realized what she had said and braced herself when House narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully.

"So what happened then, when you came over after the infarction? Was that another attempt at you trying to come clean about Diedre?"

Shelly sighed and sat facing him from the end of his bed.

"That was the last time I got up the courage. You were so sick, and hurting. I felt like I was trapped in a room with a wild animal. I was sitting there, thinking I would have this great therapy session with you, calm you with music, and then give you the news. Let Deidre be your hope for getting better. But the abuse, the berating. I know you were just trying to vent your frustration, but I was so terrified that you were so far gone you would lash out on your daughter whenever the pain was too much of a challenge." House just sat for a moment looking at her, and she could see the wheels turning in his head.

"So?" he finally prompted.

"So?"

"Why are you here, Shell? It's 2 in the morning. You didn't bring bagels, so I'm assuming you want to chat without the kid around. What are you here for?"

Shelly felt the butterflies starting to dance in her stomach from her nervousness and pressed her hands against her legs to try and contain her emotions. It was now or never.

"I just wanted to apologize to you, Greg. For everything. You don't know your daughter, and that was my decision. My mistake. God knows, if you hadn't gotten sick, I may have never gotten up the strength to ever tell you about her. And doing it this way, for these reasons, just sucks, I know. So, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. We're going to be seeing each other a lot. Well, indefinitely, if Dee has anything to do with it, and although I know you'll probably never forgive me, I just wanted to put it out there."

Shelly drew in a deep breath. She felt as if she just bled the life out of herself, and yet she was still there, sitting, breathing, her heart pounding in her ears. And House was still just regarding her silently with that laser blue stare.

 _Well, what did you expect? His willing and immediate forgiveness? This isn't Billy Graham we're talking about here._

Finally, Greg looked down. "Actually, the therapist at the Waismann clinic seems to think that I'm the one who owes _you_ an apology, for forcing you to go through all the concealment in the first place."  
Shelly thought she was hearing things, and it must have shown because House rolled his eyes at her expression.

"Therapy. It was a requirement for my program. You know having a teenager would put any parent into counseling, but just finding out the child you've never known is a teenager I think gives me a little special license here."

"No, no. It's not that," Shelly responded, recovering a little. "It's just that... I just never thought I'd hear you - admit anything like that."

She watched as Greg's expression changed and wondered if she had said too much again.

"Yeah, well. Good to know. I guess neither one of us has a spotless record, so at this point maybe it's time to live and let live," he finally said after a short pause. Shelly just nodded mutely, her brain buzzing with the relief House had just provided her. He was calling a truce. She couldn't believe the mellow reaction was coming from the very same man she had known and loved all these years. Still numb with relief, she inelegantly just blurted out the rest of her burden.

"Oh, and Diedre consents. To the liver donation, I mean. She said she's prepared to give anything you might need." At this news, Shelly detected a glimmer of relief before his gaze changed to one of scrutiny. She could feel herself squirming under his assessment.

"So, Diedre's prepared. What about Shelly?" he finally asked her. Shelly tried to swallow down the large knot that was suddenly stuck in her throat and looked down to examine the frayed hem of the lounge pants she was wearing.

"I told Dee that the decision is hers. I've explained all the recovery, and the side effects, and the possible complications, and she's still sure she wants to do this. She's a smart girl, Greg, and I trust her decision. Even if I don't like it."

"You could always just not sign the release. She's still a minor, you know."

Shelly looked up at his detached tone. His face was turned away from hers and looking out the window to the blackness outside.

"And let you die, you mean? Right, because then our daughter would not only blame me for keeping her from you, but for killing you too. I know you're a miserable bastard, Greg, but that isn't a good enough excuse for me to let you waste away in a painful death." At the anger in her tone, House looked back, his eyes mirroring a mixture of surprise and sadness. She held his gaze for a moment, hoping to see something in there that would reassure her she was making the right decision. Something that would convince her he was serious about taking this third chance he was getting at life and doing something with it. "Besides, I think the clause of you having your daughter's liver inside you might help you to remember not to waste it this time. If you even think you're going to get to wallow in self pity after this surgery like you did after your infarction you have another thing coming."

House gave a short laugh before she saw him shake off the bleak mood. "Blackmail, huh? So this is your revenge for me running out on you."

"You better believe it," Shelly answered, relieved that his humor was back. "Dee has been pestering me for a belly ring, and I need backup, so you better make sure you stick around. I'm positive she'll complain louder now that I gave consent for a liver transplant but I won't let her stick a little bit of stainless steel through her navel."

House made a disgusted face before giving Shelly a little smirk.

"Sounds like she has some good debating skills."

"With the two of us as her parents I don't think there was any other option. Naming her after both of our genteel mothers didn't do much in regards to passing along their virtues of patience and understanding." Silently, Shelly tried to reign in her heartbeat. As they sat here bantering back and forth, she could feel her long dormant feelings for him start to awaken from the electricity they were generating, and her heart was starting to clamor around in her chest from the excitement.

House gave another small smirk and then dropped his head to study his hands. Shelly mentally prepared for the next deflection, but his question was soft and tentative. "What was Dee like? Growing up, I mean."

The longing in his voice recalled the small lump to form in Shelly's throat, and she quickly slid off the bed to retrieve the bag she had brought with her. Pulling out a thick album she crossed over to his bed and settled it on his good leg, resting her hand on the smooth leather cover.

"I started this for you when Deidre was born," she said as she kept her eyes on her hand to avoid his stare. "It was a little baby book I kept for you. As Dee got older, she started adding to it, so it's kind've morphed into a scrapbook of sorts. She added all types of things she thought you might like to know about her and the things she's accomplished. I figured I'd let you have it now so you could go over in first in private without anyone bothering you." Shelly slipped her hand off the book and turned to collect her things, but as she passed by his bed on her way to the door, a firm hand gripped her wrist.

"Shell, wait. Do you think you could, maybe...stay? Tell me a little more about the pictures and things?" The book was already opened on House's lap, and Shelly could almost feel the raw emotion radiating from him. He looked like a lost child, and she bit her lip to try and keep her heart from crying for him.

"Sure, if that's what you want," she said, and re-stowed her things. House awkwardly scooted over so she could squeeze in next to him, and she tried to remain calm as his near proximity further stirred up the long dormant currents that used to sing through her body whenever he was near. Trying for the second time to banish the feelings and focus, she pointed to the first picture.

"That is the first photograph ever taken of our daughter, by one of the nurses in the delivery room," she began.

 _-tbc_


	11. Chapter 11

Can you believe it? Another chapter! Thanks for reading!

I do not own any recognizable characters

.::11

"But, House, I thought we agreed to the liver transplant yesterday. What happened between now and then?" Wilson was standing there with a befuddled look as House picked at the stray threads in the sheet.

"Who said anything happened? I had alot of time to think about it, and I would just rather try to do the stem cell therapy first." Foreman's small snort of reproach tore House's gaze away from the oncologist and over to where some of his fellows, past and present, had congregated in the corner of the room. "I'm sorry. Did the peanut gallery have a comment?"

"House, you know you could be wasting precious time with this," Chase replied before taking a drink from his water bottle.

Foreman just shrugged his shoulders in resignation and shook his head, but Thirteen was giving him that assessing look she sometimes had.

"So did you ask your daughter yet about her thoughts, or are you just trying to make decisions in her best interest without talking to her? Because it would be a great way to start out on the wrong foot with the overprotective know-it-all parent routine."

House rolled his eyes and glared back at her. "Spare me the pseudo parenting advice. When she becomes a lesbian rebel I might seek you out for advice. _Might_. Until then just stick to the topic here, ok?"

The sound of a tap on the glass swung everyone's attention to the door as Diedre slid the glass back and stepped in, followed by Shelly and Blythe.

"What's going on?" Diedre asked as she faced the group of doctors encamped in the room with her father. "Did something happen, Dad?"

House covered his face in frustration and blew into his hands. "Why does everyone keep asking if something _happened_?"

"We were just discussing the stem cell option again with your father, Dee," Wilson supplied as House tried to reign in his temper.

"But why? I told mom I would do the liver transplant. Didn't you tell him, Mom?" the teenager asked swiveling to face her mother.

"Dee, yes. I told your father you would give him anything he needed, but this really is his decision, honey."

"Why would you not want to do the transplant? They said it was the best chance you had of getting better, Dad. Don't you want to get better?" Her voice had a beseeching edge to it, and House uncovered his face to look at his daughter, then his mother, and then Shelly, Wilson, and the rest of his team in the room.

"Yes Deidre, I want to get better," House said evenly, returning his gaze to the girl. Then abruptly he swung his arm. "Any chance the rest of you have somewhere else you need to be?" he asked irritably.

The group tried to conceal their smiles with varying degrees of success as they shuffled out of the room, and in the meantime House tugged on Deidre's arm until she was settled across from him on the end of his bed. House watched as she nervously picked at the rubber on the sole of her shoe until Wilson slid the glass door shut to leave them in privacy.

"Hey," he finally said, causing Diedre's head to finally look up and meet his eyes.

"Hey," she returned, relaxing a little and giving him a small smile. But her face immediately became troubled again and she looked at him in earnest. "Why aren't you going to do the liver transplant? I really want to do it, so don't refuse because you're worried about me -"

"Whoa. Wait a minute," House interrupted holding up a hand. "Before you go off again, I need to know what they told you."

"What they told me?"

"Yes. I want to know exactly what they told you about a liver transplant."

"Well, for me they had this donor guy come in and he told me about the procedure, and the recovery. And the things I need to avoid for a year, and signs of complications. Why?"

"What about my part? Did they tell you anything about what happens to me?"

"Besides you getting a new liver and getting better so you're not poisoned by your own body?"

House frowned a bit at her clean cut view of everything. "What about complications? Did they explain to you the complications and side effects I might have because of the transplant?" Diedre's eyes widened a little, and House could tell by her expression that she hadn't thought of or been informed of the downsides to having his liver replaced.

"First off, I'll have to take drugs. For the rest of my life. Anti-rejection pills that will tell my body to ignore the fact that there is an alien organ from another planet dwelling inside my body." Diedre gave a little smile and so House continued. "The drugs suppress my immune system, so there is an increased chance of me getting sick with little things that I would normally be able to fight off. So, working in a hospital with sick people would no longer be a good option for me. Plus, there's side effects to the meds themselves sometimes to consider. After the surgery I have to stay in the hospital for at least 3 weeks, including the ICU for the first couple of days. And then, the success rate of transplants is measured on the 5 year plan. Liver transplants are only rated with a 75-80% success rate, meaning after 5 years, only 75% of patients are still living."

Diedre was becoming paler and more frightened looking as he went on, so House reached over and grabbed her hand. He could see her fighting valiantly to keep her tears in check, and felt a small pang of emotion in his chest. Sadness? Pity? He wasn't sure. But he braced himself for her reaction as he divulged the last piece of information.

"Dee, there is also the chance that my body will just reject the liver outright. So at the end of my 3 week stay we might be right back where we started with no other options."

House just looked deep into the tears welling in his daughter's eyes, hoping he could telegraph some strength to her. It was a moment or two before Diedre swallowed hard and opened her mouth to reply.

"So the bone marrow transplant. That doesn't have the same kinds of side effects?" Unconsciously, House relaxed at her question. If she was taking it this well, he might not have to deal alone with an emotional teenager.

"I wouldn't be getting your marrow directly, just the stem cells. So no, there aren't that many risks involved. And then if it doesn't work out there is still the option of the liver transplant as a last resort." House's eyes narrowed for a moment as his mind worked. "The donor rep didn't explain any of the details of the bone marrow transplant to you?" He was starting to feel that familiar irritation growing in his chest from the total incompetence of some people.

Diedre just shrugged. "He didn't explain much about your end of it. He said that for me I would just be sedated and then they'd stick me with a harvesting needle into my hip. So what happens afterwards? Do they separate my marrow stuff and just give you the parts you need?"

House gave a small chuckle at her process description. "Yes, exactly. Your marrow _stuff_ has the cells in it that might regenerate my liver tissue." Diedre playfully swatted at him for mimicking her and House ducked. "Hey! Hey! No beating the sick cripple!"

"You get what you deserve, buddy! You should think twice before making fun of a kid! Especially your own daughter!"

The two laughed and House could feel the tension and seriousness passing over and away like a cloud.

"So how do you like your Grandma?" House asked her after they had composed themselves. Diedre brightened at the question.

"Gram? Oh she's lovely! She brought all these old pictures with her and it was so cool to see pics of you as a baby!" House rolled his eyes at the memory of those photos, but Diedre took no notice. "And the pictures of her when she was younger! It was amazing to see someone who looked like me staring back from another time period! And Gram showed Mom and I how to make fish tacos. She said that she adapted the recipe from some tapas dish she learned to make when she was staying in Spain or Portugal or somewhere. Have you ever had them? I don't really care for fish, but these were really good!"

House just shook his head as Diedre continued on about her night together with Blythe. As he watched his daughter his mind was rewinding to his own childhood, and the afternoons spent prowling the far away cities and ports they would call home for a few months time. How he and his mother would laugh at their own attempts to bargain with the shop owners with only a little command of a foreign language, or how they would sample local cuisine for lunch before going back to base to cook the all American meals his father liked for dinner. How his mother always let his father order for her whenever they went out, but when she was alone with her son she was forever daring and suggesting they try something new or unknown. He realized slowly that these are things he should tell Diedre, that she would probably love to hear. Especially things about him in case the surgery...but no, he wouldn't think about that right now. For once he would turn off his inner cynic and just enjoy some time with his daughter. Making new memories.

It was some time later that Shelly and Blythe reappeared.

"We just came by to let you know we were headed out for some lunch," Blythe explained as she came in to hover over her son.

"Yes. So how's it going in here you two?" Shelly added ruffling her own daughter's hair. Her tone was light but House thought he could see the fear and uncertainty lurking in her eyes before she looked down at her daughter.

"Dad and I decided that the bone marrow is the next best step. It can still give us options if..." Diedre faltered a bit and Blythe reached across to grip her hand.

"Yes, if there are any complications, I agree with you and Greg. It's nice to still have another option if things don't go as planned," the older woman soothed, meeting her son's gaze.

House merely nodded before he dared to look at Shelly again. Their gazes locked and he felt himself drawn into her brown eyes with the flecks of gold. Searchingly, he could see that most of the fear had been replaced with relief and thankfulness. Again, he wondered how they could just communicate with merely a look. Maybe it was a by product of reproducing together. Pushing the thought aside he welcomed when she broke eye contact, the sound of her voice interrupting his wandering mind.

"So, what are you two having? We thought maybe we could grab something to have back here with you if that's okay," Shelly deferred to Greg.

"If it beats hospital food, I'm all for it," he agreed watching through the glass wall as a nutrition staffer walked past pushing the meal trays. Looking back at his daughter he added, "but you go too Dee. Make sure they don't get me a tuna salad or anything like that," his voice dropped in a conspiratorial whisper at the last part.

Blythe rolled her eyes. "Heaven forbid it has mayonnaise in it!" she chuckled good-naturedly as Deidre scrambled off the bed and took her proffered arm. Shelly hung back a bit as the other two headed for the door, and House was surprised when she grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I know I said I would stand behind whatever decision she made and everything. And I know Dr. Chase seems to think that this isn't the best treatment option for you, but. Thank you."

House found himself covering her hand with his other one before he realized what he was doing.

"Hey, she's my kid too. I don't want her having a rougher time than she has to."

His response made Shelly's face light up in a smile and the little laugh lines around her eyes to crinkle. Impulsively she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then she was withdrawing her hands and hurrying out the door to join the others before she was missed.

House found that he couldn't keep the thoughts about her lips, and the softness of her skin under his fingers, from out of his mind after they were gone. It was a little unsettling to say the least. His body already betraying him, it was only a matter of time before his mind turned on him as well. He wiped a hand over his face and tried to focus on setting up Diedre's bone marrow harvesting instead. Pulling out his cell phone he scrolled to Wilson's number and hit send. An oncologist would definitely know who to call that was good enough to go near his daughter.

 _~tbc_


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for reading!

I still do not own anyone recognizable

.::12

House stared at the ceiling and tried not to fidget as the blood drained from his arm and into the collection bag. The medical journal he had brought along with the motorcycle magazine that was a gift from his daughter lay discarded on his lap. The truth was that he really couldn't focus on anything right now, knowing that Deidre was currently in surgery getting her bone marrow taken out. How the doctor had talked him into this Leukapheris process during Deidre's procedure, he couldn't quite remember. It had seemed like a good idea at the time - getting something done instead of pacing like a caged lion in the waiting room. But now being cut off from all of the news of her surgery was grating at him and making his nerves wear thin. As the door to the room opened, House lifted his head, expecting to see the Phlebotomist, but was instead relieved to see Wilson entering with a bottle of Orange Juice and a small bag.

"Hey," the oncologist said with a small smile, and House immediately tried to read his friend and see if everything had gone alright with the marrow harvesting.

"How's she doing?" House asked as Wilson dragged a chair over to his side.

"She's in recovery. She woke up for a few minutes and was in a lot of pain, so they gave her some painkillers and those knocked her out again. So I figured I'd come give you an update. Shelly and Blythe are staying with her now" Wilson added, passing over the orange juice to House's free hand. "Not to be cliche, but you really should drink that to boost your glucose levels back up."

House rolled his eyes as he placed the juice container on his chest for lack of a better place. "That's usually why you also get cookies after this type of thing. I don't think this vampire likes me too much, though. I wonder if I'll be getting any cookies at all."

"Wow. A doctor like you not being a good patient?" Wilson feigned shock, and House made a face at him. "Here. I'll open your juice so you can get a leg up on replacing your hydration levels."

House watched as his friend deftly separated the seal from the cap and handed him the small bottle, noting that it was the good orange juice and not just the watered tang that they sold in the vending machine. He usually balked at being waited upon, but House let Wilson fuss for once to make him feel better. The emotional toll of the past month showed on his friend, and if a little hovering would make him feel better House was just going to let him do it.

"Something tells me you have something else to go along with this," he commented as he took a sip, his eyes pointedly looking at the bag by Wilson's feet.

"Well, not me. This is from your mother and Shelly," the oncologist answered as he pulled out a small cookie tin. "And Shelly told me to make sure I told you that she had no hand in the baking process, whatever that means. I don't know if that's a reference that there isn't any arsenic in them or what, but," opening the lid he presented them with a flourish. "Oatmeal chocolate chip."

The comment made House chuckle at the memory of the few times Shelly had ever tried to bake. He found himself suppressing a smile as he reached for a cookie under his friend's assessing look.

"So there is a story in there. I guess I probably don't want to know," Wilson said with a touch of disappointment as he helped himself to his own cookie and closed the tin.

"No, not much to tell. Just Shelly can't bake. The last time she tried making a Yule Log or some such nonsense for Christmastime." The memory of that night was suddenly strong in his mind.

 _"Well, at least it's authentic," Shelly had proclaimed after laying the charred layers of cake on the counter in his kitchen as he was frantically trying to open all the windows in his apartment to clear the smoke out._

 _"How's that?" he had questioned, waving the dish towel at the smoke alarm to hopefully silence the shrill beeping._

 _"Isn't the purpose of a Yule Log to burn it?"_

"A Yule Log?" Wilson's question brought him back to the present.

"Yeah it was supposed to be a rolled cake filled with custard and covered in chocolate icing to look like a log. Lets just say we ended up just eating the custard filling and chocolate icing smeared over some Twinkies, instead."

Wilson laughed as he finished his cookie and motioned to the tin again to see if House wanted another, but House shook his head.

"So how did the tech ever get you to agree to Leukapheris?" Wilson enquired, his eyes going over the blood collection system, no doubt checking for leaks or bubbles.

"Well its a double punch. Worth a try. Get stem cells from Diedre's marrow, and the stem cells from my own white blood cells. And then leftover red blood cells I just get re-infused back in during the surgery." He looked over to find his friend looking at him with a strange smile on his face. "What?"

"And not to mention its a stronger option when you take the more conservative approach of a bone marrow transplant instead of a liver donation."

House narrowed his eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing. Nothing. It's just... I never thought after I called Shelly that night that it would be like this. You, and Shelly and Diedre. Like a family. The anger, I'll admit I was worried about. Rejection, I was really worried about. But look at you. You care for your daughter. You're working on forgiving her mom."

"I'm working on saving my own ass, Wilson, let's not get carried away. That teenage girl is knocked out downstairs on pain meds because I needed her bone marrow." House delivered with his usual offhand manner, but the words lacked their full sting, and Wilson could tell. He reached over and patted House on his immobilized arm.

"I'm proud of you, House," he simply said softly, and then released his arm and dove into the bag again. "Did you see the article in the new Dirt Rider Magazine about the Monster Jam lineup this year?"

House perked up as Wilson pulled the publication and flipped to the marked page, glad for the change in topic. His friend's words were touching on something House had already been wrestling with for days, and he needed a distraction so he didn't have to think about it now. A debate on the merits of Grave Digger versus Maximum Destruction would be just the thing to pass the time.

 _Two days later_

House cringed as he opened his eyes to a blinding white light. Throwing his arm over his eyes he groaned.

"So is that what the light looks like? Am I dead?"

"That all depends on whether I look like an angel to you," came the soft female voice from next to him.

"Shelly?" House turned towards the sound of the voice, but his eyes still hadn't adjusted fully so he couldn't quite make her out clearly at first.

"In the flesh," she replied as she got up from the chair and moved closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly, and quickly smoothed back the hair on his head. "Can I get you anything?"

"I feel fine. Throat is dry though, so water would be good."

Shelly busied herself with the plastic water pitcher and House took a moment to try and figure out what was going on. Waking up from his transfusion and seeing Shelly was leaving him a little raw emotionally, for some reason. House forced the feelings aside as he accepted the cup she was offering him.

"I know it says no cell phones down here in recovery, but do you think I could get away with a text message to Dee? She really insisted on knowing the minute you woke up."

House nodded. "Yeah, you'll be fine. Just do it quick, because I think I see a nurse coming."

Shelly turned away to conceal her phone, and sure enough, a nurse pulled back the curtain wider and stepped in.

"Dr. House. You're awake! And how is our patient doing?" the nurse clucked cheerily as she went over the chart.

"How about we skip the preliminary chit chat so I don't have to repeat myself when the doctor comes in to ask the same questions," House grumbled as the nurse started checking his vitals and the incision.

He saw both the expression on Shelly's face and the expression of the nurse cloud over a bit at his biting reply and sighed loudly. "Really, I feel fine. Throat is killing me, the incision stings a little, but overall I'm fine," he said resignedly.

"Good, glad to hear it," the nurse said, then stepped to the side as Dr. Hooker appeared and grabbed up the chart.

"Dr. House. Not going to insult you with the long version, so I'll just say that everything went textbook during the transfusion. Anything I need to know about with how you're feeling?"

"Nope."

"I didn't think so. Well, everything looks good to me. Observation for 24 hours, then release, and we need you back in to do bloodwork starting in one week. For now I think we can just get you back to your room." Dr. Hooker replaced the chart and patted the nurse on the shoulder as he walked out of the recovery area.

Shelly stepped up to the side of House's bed, and he felt her cold hand lay on his upper arm and give him a squeeze. "So he's headed back up to his room? Can he have visitors?"

House saw the way the nurse looked at the gesture before smiling warmly at Shelly and felt uncomfortable.

"Yes, he's allowed to have visitors, but I would really only limit it to two for now, and only family."

"Well his daughter is anxious to see him," Shelly replied, and House caught the swift look of surprise before the nurse turned away to busy herself with the chart.

"That should be fine. I'll just go round up some orderlies to get you back to a room," the nurse replied, and shooting one more glance in House's direction she slipped out and replaced the curtain.

House grimaced and Shelly immediately realized something was wrong.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, should I?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. She had that look going on the minute you put your hand on me. Besides, it beats gracing the gossip circuit just for being an idiot and frying my liver." He gave Shelly a weak smile. "So how did you get stuck with being my Florence Nightengale?"

Shelly smirked at his comment and drew the chair closer to his bed before sitting down again. "Well, obviously Dee wanted to do it, but Blythe didn't think she should be sitting so long since she's still in pain on the one side. So she talked Dee into making you lunch with her. Wilson had a board meeting that Cuddy was at as well, and since I'm still on FMLA for Dee, not really needed in the kitchen when the two of them are cooking, I figured I'd come sit with Sleeping Beauty until he woke up. Or maybe you're more like the Beast."

"Deidre really wanted to wait through my surgery?" House asked, amazed that she wouldn't have been bored for four hours.

"I think it also has something to do with Luke, the orderly, too. But I'm not getting an answer one way or the other on that one," Shelly admitted with a little shrug.

"What? Who's Luke? You let her date already?"

Shelly's eyebrows shot up as she watched House's heart monitor start to get lively.

"Greg! Calm down! She's 16! Yes she's been on a date before, but definitely not with a 20 year old. Luke is an orderly here that Dee developed a crush on. She even somehow got a hold of his work schedule, whether by direct interrogation or some other means, I'm not sure."

House tried to calm himself at her explanation, but the surge of protectiveness that rose up was a little overwhelming, especially since he'd hardly ever felt like that over someone before. His sour mood went a little farther south when he noticed Shelly was trying not to laugh at him.

"What are you laughing at? I know what I was like at 20," House grumbled.

"It's just so sweet, that's all," Shelly said, finally managing to control herself. "You got all Poppa bear over one mention of a boy hanging around Dee."

Finally House smiled a little too and relaxed a notch. "Sure, go ahead and laugh. You'll be the one who has to console her when she finds out I'm not letting her date until she's 25."

"25! She'll go nuts if you tell her that!"

But House was saved from answering from the tall male orderly who came in and drew back the curtain. "Doctor House. Ready to head on back to your room?"

"Absolutely. Your name isn't Luke is it?"

"No, sir. I'm Zack."

"Nice to meet you Zack. Let's get out of here."

 _~tbc_


	13. Chapter 13

Well, we made it! This is the end of the road for this story. I just want to thank everyone who stuck with me through this experience. Your support meant a lot!

I do not own any recognizable characters. Only Shelly and Deidre are my own.

.::13

 _Three Months Later_

Shelly smiled to herself as she listened from the kitchen to the animated discussion going on between daughter and father on the front porch. She added a few ice cubes to the two glasses of iced tea and made her way to the porch just as a car turned into the drive and honked for her daughter.

"Mom, that's Vivian. I'm leaving!"

"I'm right here. Give me a kiss before you go," Shelly answered as she pushed through the screen door, careful that Deidre didn't spill the iced teas she was holding as she hurriedly gave her mom a peck on the cheek and flew off the porch down the driveway. "Back after the fireworks, remember?" Shelly yelled after her daughter, and Dee waved to let her know she had heard as she climbed into the car.

Shelly sighed as she settled onto the porch swing next to House and handed him a drink. The two watched silently as the car pulled out of the drive and headed off, and then Shelly could feel House's eyes on her.

"So what do you usually do on the Fourth of July?" he asked.

Shelly leaned her head back on the swing before answering. "The VNA where I work has a barbeque every year that's pretty painful to sit through, and when Dee was little we used to catch the train to Camden to see the fireworks across the river at the Philly Art Museum. We haven't done that in years, though. Ever since she was in junior high she's been going with Vivian to Great Adventure since their family has season passes. Why?"

House just shrugged as he sipped his drink and pushed the swing into motion, the movement creating a welcoming stir in the hot air of the July afternoon. "I usually stay indoors in the air conditioning watching television," he answered, and Shelly laughed.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just the humid buzz of the day and the rhythmic squeak of the porch swing acting as a backdrop as they both ran away with their thoughts.

"So..." Shelly said and nervously swirled the ice in her glass.

"So?" House responded, his eyebrows raised in question while he took a sip of his iced tea.

"I'm assuming you didn't call to come over just to melt here on my porch," Shelly said with a smirk. She could see something flicker in his eyes, but he turned away to put his glass down before she could identify what it was. Leaning back he reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew an opened envelope. He silently held it out to her and she just sat for a moment regarding it before she reached up and took it from him.

"What is it?" she questioned. But House just shrugged and leaned down to retrieve his drink. Shelly started to tremble a little as her mind raced with possibilities but she drew out the two sheets of paper and managed to unfolded them without incident. She recognized that it was his bloodwork results and immediately scanned down the page to find the liver function panel. As the numbers swirled on the page, Shelly was grateful for the last column on the sheet that listed the summary results;

 _AST (U/L) = within normal range, ALT (U/L) = within normal range, ALP (U/L) = within normal range_

Even as she started to shake, Shelly welcomed the feeling of peace that draped over her. The lead ball that she felt in the pit of her belly was starting to dissolve for the first time since that awful phone call from Wilson so many nights ago.

"Greg," her voice faltered a little with emotion and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, God, Greg. It worked."

Before Shelly could help herself she leaned over and hugged him. Hard. All the while biting back the tears that she knew were going to leak out and mark up his shirt anyway. One deep sob escaped before she could help herself, and she felt House's hand come up and rub a few slow circles on her back. Closing her eyes, Shelly had to concentrate on controlling her breathing before she could pull away.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she wiped the wetness from her cheeks. "I didn't mean to blubber all over you. It's just...it's all so..." taking a deep breath she swiped again at her eyes and finally met his gaze. "I feel like we've all been stuck in a time warp since the diagnosis. With all the uncertainty and lack of a concrete prognosis. This is just _real_ , you know. Proof that we did the right thing." Then realizing how that might sound to him, Shelly looked down at her lap. "Well, maybe not _everything_ right. But at least about your liver."

"Hey," she heard House say, and then watched as his hand moved onto her lap and grabbed onto her fingers. "Look at me, Shell."

She complied and felt herself being drawn in. His eyes were so tender and soft.

"It might not have been the best choices we've made, but look how it panned out." He gave her a small smile and then looked down at the iced tea in his other hand. "And besides, I can't guarantee that any of this would have turned out better if I had known sooner about Diedre." Meeting her eyes again he continued, "When I was in the detox facility, the therapist there said something that got me thinking about how I got to where I was, and," House paused for a moment as if to say something, but ultimately changed his mind. "Let's just say its better I'm in her life now, after I've grown up a little bit."

Shelly managed a smile and squeezed his hand. A truce. It was more than she ever hoped for.

"She's a great kid, Greg. And you've been doing great with her. I think the two of you bring out the best in each other."

The smile he returned was crooked, placating. Shelly could tell he didn't fully agree with her assessment.

"C'mon, Greg," she teased softly, tugging on his hand. "You're not that bad. And now you guys really have some time to get to enjoy each other. A real beginning this time."

His eyes met hers again, and Shelly tried to keep up with the swiftly changing emotions surfacing in the liquid blue pools. Remorse, uncertainty, doubt, hope, and then an unfamiliar intensity. She had to fight against the urge to let herself be drawn in.

"And what about you, Shell?" he questioned in a low voice. The intensity was too much and she had to look away, down at their joined hands.

"What about me? I'll be right here, Greg. I've always been right here. It's not like we'll never see each other. I'm sure Deidre will come up with plenty of venues for 'family outings' just to torture us both." she attempted a half-hearted laugh.

"You deserve more than that. I owe you more than that. I owe you, well, _my life_ , for one thing-"

"Listen," Shelly said straightening up at his morose tone. "We both know how I've always felt about you, from the very beginning. Now I appreciate that your near death experience is giving you new perspective and all that, but if you think I'll cave into a relationship because you think you _owe me_ , then you're right. I deserve better, Greg. I'm not worried that I won't be able to control myself around you, and you shouldn't be worried that you can hurt me. The only way you could hurt me is by hurting Dee, and I swear, right now, that if you EVER make her hurt for some selfish reason, so help me - "

"I get it! I get it!" House pulled away to throw his hand up in surrender to try and calm her increasing agitation. There was a beat of silence and then they both broke into laughter over her near ultimatum.

"Don't tick off the momma bear. Got it," he repeated again. Then he flashed her a small grin.

Shelly moved to fold back up the bloodwork results and replace them in their envelope. Passing it to his upturned hand, she hesitated, biting her lip.

"So, the results. Have you told anyone else yet?" She heard, rather than saw House draw a deep breath and hold it for a moment. "Coward," she teased as he failed to respond, and he suddenly blew the breath out in a swift gust before joining in on her quiet laughter.

Grabbing the envelope he stuffed it back into his pocket and then rubbed his forehead.

"Well, I'm sure Wilson knows already," he replied tentatively. "He hasn't given me puppy eyes in the last two days, so I'm assuming he found out."

Shelly gave an inelegant snort at his answer and retrieved her drink to take a sip. "Because it wouldn't be so much easier to just tell him straight out."

House looked at her in mock horror "And have him blubber all over my shirt?"

They both laughed again, but Shelly still shook her head at him. "What about Blythe? What about your daughter? You're not shoving off the duty of telling Dee about your results on me, buddy."

House just looked uncomfortable.

"GREG!" Shelly was incredulous, and he had the grace to look a little sheepish. "I think I've had enough fun being a messenger for one lifetime." She eyed him from the corner of her vision as she took another sip of her drink.

"I was planning on calling Mom tonight. She has this cookout she goes to with a bunch of the other Marine wives she knows, so I figured I'd catch her when she got home from that. Dee, I..." and he trailed off.

"You were supposed to tell us both before she left and you chickened out?"

House grimaced, then smirked. "Have I always been this transparent to you?"

"God help you, Greg," she teased back, and he smiled.

They both relaxed into the swing again, and House pushed against the porch to set them back in motion.

Lulled by the movement and the heat, Shelly's voice sounded low and thick to her ears.

"You're telling her first thing tomorrow." It was more of a statement than a question.

House turned his head to hold her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I promise," he replied.

They both continued to swing in silence, both contemplating the past and the present. And the future.

There was a future, and now Greg House would still be in it.

For Shelly, that was enough.

 _-The End-_


End file.
